


I Will Meet You at the Dawn

by Morgan Aleghieri (morganaleghieri)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon Divergent, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied Nudity, Implied Transformation, Ladyhawke AU, Mild Gore, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Beta Read, Transformation, Violence, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganaleghieri/pseuds/Morgan%20Aleghieri
Summary: Bernadetta von Varley meets a mysterious woman in a marketplace - circumstance throws them together, and Bernie ends up travelling with the woman and her companions.TL:DR, Bernie travels with Byleth and Seteth as they seek answers to end a powerful curse that keeps them apart.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 24
Kudos: 39





	1. A Rescue in the Marketplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at the mercy of my fatigue at the moment, so I'll be updating this one slowly - I have a plan for it though, so it will all come together in the end :)

“Stupid, stupid! You’re really in it this time, Bernie!” She skidded as she turned sharply to run down a narrow alleyway. _Of all the places to try and make a run for it…_ she thought bitterly to herself. At the end of the alleyway there was some crates stacked haphazardly – without a thought, she ducked in behind them and hid, clamping her hands over mouth to muffle her heaving breaths. When her heart stopped pounding in her ears, she strained to listen. Her father’s guards _couldn’t_ have been far behind – but all she could hear was the general hubbub of the tiny village’s marketplace.

Bernie deflated glumly. It was only a matter of time before her pursuers caught up with her. She doubted this village was even noted on a map – the small collection of houses and one public house all crowded on the one main road. There were some outlying farmlands that supported the few locals, but not much else beyond heavy woods. _Actually,_ she thought, if she wasn’t currently being chased by her father’s guards, the village would have been idyllic. _A place to be left alone,_ she mused. She shook the thought from her mind and sighed miserably.

The afternoon was wearing on when she finally left her hiding spot. She cursed quietly as she stood, her legs cramping from crouching for so long. Cautiously she edged her way out of the alleyway. The little village street was quiet – though a few of the locals still went about their business. Bernie let out a short breath. Maybe they’d given up – she couldn’t see the guards about at least. She walked quickly and quietly back the way they had ridden through – her anxiety spiking the closer she came to the road out of town.

A hand came down on her shoulder.

She screamed.

\-----

Byleth paid the merchant and tucked the parcel of provisions under her arm, pulling her hood back up around her face as she left the little store. She hadn’t been able to get much for her coin, but coin was hard to come by when you were keeping a low profile. She grimaced at that. How much longer could they keep running?

 _As long as we have to,_ she thought sadly.

A scream – or perhaps more accurately, a high-pitched squeal – caused her to jerk to attention, though not quick enough to avoid the young girl barrelling blindly towards her. Byleth braced herself and the girl hit her with a small “oof” – very nearly falling over backwards. The girl looked up at her with big, watery eyes.

 _“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please don’t hurt me!”_ she cried. Byleth took a breath – and made a decision.  
“Are these men giving you trouble?” she said, in her quiet monotone. The girl nodded furiously. Byleth sighed and stepped in front of her, handing her the parcel of goods.  
“Hold this.” The two guards came running towards her. Byleth planted her feet and lunged – catching the first guard square in the chest and knocking him back into the other. Before they could recover, she drew her sword and knocked the first guard on the head with the hilt. He slumped back, unconscious. The second guard scrambled back, but the other man’s dead weight had caught on his own armour. Byleth rested her boot on his chest.

“I can knock you out like your friend here, or you can agree to leave this girl alone and I can save you the headache.” The guard looked up at her in alarm, the cogs turning in his mind as he considered if taking her on was worth his coin. Slowly he put his hands up, his head shaking slightly.  
“I don’t want no trouble, miss.” Byleth nodded.  
“Good.” She took her foot off his chest and returned to where the girl stood frozen. She took her parcel from her, and then rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
“Come with me,” she said softly to the frightened rabbit standing before her, before turning towards the public house at the edge of town. In a daze, the girl followed her.

\-----

Bernie watched as the woman walked past the public house to a small stable that butted up against it and went inside. Cautiously, she followed her. Soft afternoon light filtered in through the open windows.  
“It’s just me,” she called out, as if addressing a friend. At the very end of the stable stalls, the head of a wyvern wormed its way over the stall door – slowly, as if it had been hiding. Despite herself, Bernie giggled at the image. Noticing her there, the wyvern focused intently on her and hissed quietly. The woman reached a hand up to gently touch his snout.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, she’s fine. She won’t hurt us.” The wyvern snorted, then rested its head on the stall door. Bernie crept closer. It was a striking beast – its noble head shimmered imperceptibly with tiny, olive scales.  
“What a beautiful creature – does it have a name?” The woman stared at her for a moment – her expression unreadable.  
“Cichol,” she said, her voice deadpan. Bernie frowned.  
“After the saint?” The woman nodded, though there was something uncertain in her posture.  
“Yes. He’s… my favourite saint,” she said stiffly, then sighed.

“So… what can I call you?”  
“Oh!” Bernie flushed. “My name is Bernadetta von Varley – you can call me Bernie, if you like.” She flung out her hand in offering. The corner of the woman’s mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. She took Bernie’s hand, and shook it once.  
“Byleth,” she replied. “I thought I recognised the Varley livery on those guards.” Bernie blanched.  
“They kidnapped me. Well…” she flushed red again, tittering nervously. “Sort of. It’s a long story.” Byleth opened her mouth to speak, but the wyvern’s head snaked up towards the window, attention drawn to something outside.  
“Damnit.” Byleth muttered under her breath. “You’ll have to tell me later. We’ve got to go now.” A soft murmur of voices was getting closer. Bernie clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal.  
“They’ve come back for me!” she squeaked, but Byleth shook her head grimly.  
“Not for you, I’m afraid. Come on then.” She unlatched the stall door, and guided the wyvern out, leading him to the stable entrance. “We have a camp near here,” she said quietly. “We just need to get there.” Once clear of the stable, she patted the wyvern’s jaw.

“Fly, my love. Stay low, stay out of sight. We’ll cut through the woods.” The wyvern nudged her jaw with his nose, then took to the sky. There was a shout from the road. “Quickly then,” she said to Bernie and handed the parcel back to her. “Let’s go before they notice us.”

\-----

Byleth looked to the sky as they ran – it was hard to see through the canopy of the trees, but the light of the day was undoubtedly dying. Dusk would be upon them soon and that was going to present some challenges. Behind them, she could hear their pursuers – not an immediate threat, but still close enough that the ring of chainmail and thump of armoured boots on the loam reached her.

 _“Bernadetta,”_ she huffed as they moved. “There’s a fallen tree ahead – very large. Our camp is not far from there.” The young girl only nodded, clutching the parcel of supplies tightly to her chest as she ran. “Don’t stop running until you reach that tree. My friend will find you.” Byleth turned and unsheathed her sword, running back towards their pursuers. Bernadetta squeaked in surprise, nearly losing her footing.  
_“Don’t stop running, Bernadetta!”_ Byleth shouted behind her.

\-----

The last rays of sunlight were fading as Bernie ran. She cursed, focusing on keeping her footing in the low light. Her lungs were burning, and her legs ached but she couldn’t stop now. Behind her, a mournful howl keened through the wood.

 _Wolves??_ She thought, her internal panic bubbling to the surface. _Of course it’s wolves! Bernie, you fool, you should have just been a good girl. Stupid!_

She ran blindly through the dark – so focused on her own misery that she didn’t see the fallen tree until she ran into it. Her startled cry echoed in the quiet wood, and she fell back, landing on her behind. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she folded herself inward, hugging her knees to her chest. She’d had enough. And so she cried – awful, hiccoughing sobs in the stillness.

 _“Young lady,”_ hissed a voice in the dark. “I must insist that you be _quiet_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a third PoV character to lend a little mystery to our main couple here, and who better than sweet Bernie to counterpoint Byleth's stoicism with her wild emotional swings. I love Bernie, she is often such a Mood.


	2. A Wolf Without a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie meets a strange man in the woods who claims to be a friend of Byleth's. Byleth is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a bit slow going at the moment - I've got stuff I want to get to in the story but I have to set up exposition first and I am frustrated at myself. Please bear with me.

Gasping in alarm, Bernie scrabbled around so that her back was to the fallen tree. Standing a few feet from her was a man. He looked back in the direction she had run, frowning.  
“W-who are you?” she stammered. His stern gaze turned to her and she whimpered. _This is it, Bern,_ she thought. _This is how I die._

“Please… please don’t cry out. I’m a friend, I promise you.”  
“Byleth’s friend? She said there would be someone up ahead…” The man nodded. “… and then she ran back the way we came.” The man squinted his eyes shut in frustration.  
“Of course she did.” He sighed, and then strode over to her, offering her his hand. “Come along then – I’ll take you to our camp. And then…” he said, and paused, his brow creasing in thought. “… I’ll have to go find her.”

Bernadetta swallowed audibly before taking his offered hand. As she stood, she realised he was a full head taller than her – and broader across the chest than he appeared from afar. Coupled with his severe expression, he cut a very intimidating figure. She dropped his hand as if it were a burning coal. He stared at her then with an odd look, then strode away – cutting around to the right of the fallen tree.  
“Follow me,” he called quietly.

\-----

The girl was a puzzle. He wasn’t sure what Byleth was thinking by dragging her along with them, but she seemed harmless enough, at least – even if she was terrified by the sight of him. Seteth chuckled to himself. Terrified, and yet still concerned.

 _“B-be careful – there’s wolves about!”_ she had squeaked as he had left her to seek out his friend. She wasn’t wrong, of course – but that didn’t matter. All that concerned him was Byleth’s safety. He scanned the underbrush, looking for any sort of sign of her. She could be very stealthy when she wanted, and the low evening light always made searching for her difficult.

In the stillness of the wood, he could hear a quiet thumping. Warily he looked around, though he could see nothing in the dark. The sound came again, a thrumming tickling at the edge of his periphery – but closer this time. He turned slowly, trying to locate the source. There was a rustle of leaves to his left, and he turned sharply – only to be caught in the chest by a beast and knocked to the ground. A great, grey wolf growled as it leaned over him. After a moment, it snuffled at his face and whined apologetically, backing off. Heart pounding, he pulled himself upright. The wolf gave his face a little lick. He wrapped his arms tightly around the wolf’s neck and buried his face in the thick fur.

“It’s alright, my love. It’s alright. I am glad you are safe.” His voice wavered with relief as he reassured her. The wolf _wuffed_ softly against his ear. “Let us find your things and head back to camp.” He stood, and she trotted ahead of him, leading him some way before nosing in the leaf litter expectantly. Hidden there was a set of clothes and a sword. Without a word, he scooped them up, and trailed after the wolf as she padded softly through the underbrush.

\-----

In hindsight, he really should have warned the girl first. At sight of the wolf, she squealed and scrambled back from where she was sitting by the fire. She was already terrified of him – returning with a wolf at his side only exacerbated her panic. He gestured to the wolf to stay back, and she complied – flattening herself against the ground to make herself as small and unthreatening as possible. Seteth crossed slowly over to where she sat.

“She won’t hurt you.” The girl looked at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.  
_“She’s a wolf!”_ Seteth sighed in exasperation.  
“That is unfortunately true – but she is still very pleasant company, I promise.” He stood and walked back to where the wolf lay. After a moment, the girl crept closer to the fire again, curiosity winning over her terror.

“Did you find Byleth?” she asked.  
“I… did. She is fine, but she will be along later. There was something she wanted to look into near here.” The lie felt strange in his mouth, but the girl let it pass without question.

“Does the wolf have a name?” she asked timidly. Seteth’s mind suddenly emptied of all thought.  
“A name? Well -” He turned to the wolf, and the wolf looked back – head cocked expectantly to one side as she stared up at him. He panicked.

“Lady… Wolf?” Until that moment it never occurred to him that a wolf could look disappointed, but she was undeniably so. “Sorry, my love,” he said, apologetically. She made a low _wuff_ noise and narrowed her eyes at him. He turned back to the girl, who stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Sheepishly, he shrugged.

“She doesn’t truly have a proper name, I’m afraid,“ he said by way of explanation. “And _clearly_ does not approve of _Ladywolf_.” The wolf yipped as if affirming her displeasure. Seteth looked thoughtful for a moment, and then crouched by the wolf. “I have a thought. You will need a name, my dear – something we can call you while… Byleth is away. Perhaps… Bernadetta, was it? Can help us come up with something.” The wolf cocked her head to the side, then gave him a little lick on the cheek. Seteth smiled and scratched behind her ear.

“Well then, Bernadetta – what do you think?” He looked up at the girl. Her eyes were still as round as dinner plates, but her initial panic seemed to be subsiding.  
“A name?” She frowned in concentration. “Byleth said her Wyvern was named Cichol – Maybe you could name her after one of the saints as well.” She crept closer to the wolf cautiously. “What do you think, girl – Cethleann?” The wolf whined. “What about Seiros?” she huffed out a breath, clearly displeased. Bernadetta looked taken aback. “No saint names then? Hm.” She looked the wolf over. She _was_ still terrifying, but definitely beautiful. Her thick coat was a deep, mottled grey, shot through with silver. Yellow-orange eyes stared out at her from a dark face – like two bright cinders burning in the charcoal remnants of a dying fire.

“Sooty? No… Ash? Charcoal? Hmmm no, no good.” The wolf whined sadly. “Cinders? Bright Eyes?” The wolf perked up at that. She _wuffed_ questioningly and looked back to Seteth.  
“Bright Eyes, my love? It _is_ very apt.” He smiled. The wolf pushed her giant, furry face against his, nuzzling his ear and knocking him over. He laughed helplessly.  
“Bright Eyes it is. Thank you, Bernadetta.” The young girl tittered nervously, clearly unused to praise.  
“It’s no trouble! You can call my Bernie, if you like,” she mumbled, embarrassed. He smiled warmly at her.  
“Thank you, Bernie.” He paused a moment. “Ah. How rude of me. You can call me Seteth.”

They sat by the fire for some time, making stilted conversation, and sharing some of the meagre provisions Byleth had bought. The evening wore on. Eventually Seteth noticed the young girl’s head drooping. Every few minutes her head would bob up, startling herself back to alertness. He chuckled quietly.

“Do you think Byleth will be back soon?” she asked, her words being stretched by an irrepressible yawn. Seteth cast his eyes to the fire between them.  
“She may be a while yet.” He stood and handed her a cloak. “Here – you should try to get some rest. Byleth will be back by the time you awake.” Sleepily she nodded and pillowed the cloak under her head without argument. It wasn’t long before her tired, little snores reached his ears. He let out a relieved sigh.

\-----

Bernie lingered on the edge of sleep for a while, her mind an absolute jumble after such a disaster of a day. On the periphery of her senses, she thought she heard soft murmuring. Was that man talking to the wolf? Or had Byleth returned? She was too tired to investigate. Little scraps of conversation crept into her subconscious, though she didn’t care to parse their meaning.

_… can’t take her with us … she’ll have questions … how will we explain …_

_… miss you, Byleth …_

It was all very odd, Bernie found herself thinking drowsily. A strange thought came to her just as the call of sleep pulled her under.

_You know… I don’t remember telling him my name…_


	3. Stories and Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta and Byleth share their stories. The Blue Sea Star rises in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long weekend, baybeeeee - very slowly working out the logistics of this one, but I'm getting there!

With a start, Bernie woke, then winced as she registered all her little aches and pains from sleeping on the ground. She groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked about with bleary eyes. It seemed to still be pretty early on in the day. Soft morning light filtered dimly through the canopy of the wood. The fire she had fallen asleep next to had burned down during the night to coals – they radiated a faint heat, but no longer glowed red. Across the fire from her lay Cichol the Wyvern – and Byleth sat with her back against him, seemingly dozing. She realised then that the man from last night was nowhere to be seen, and neither was his wolf.

_Huh. That’s weird,_ she thought. Across from her, Byleth stirred – one lazy eye fluttering open first before committing to wakefulness.

“Good morning… I’m sorry I dragged you out all this way,” she said as she tilted her head to look at her properly. “I didn’t intend to get you tangled up in our troubles. I’m sure you have enough of your own.” Nervously, Bernie laughed.  
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she said, then grimaced. “Well, _I’m_ not fine, but my whole day had been going pretty badly, that it kind of started to look up when you stood up for me.” Byleth raised her eyebrows and made a quiet _hm_ sound. Bernie tittered nervously again. “You didn’t really have to of course, I’m just no one.” Byleth frowned.  
“I’m sure that is untrue,” she said. “Tell me, Bernadetta – how is it that we crossed paths yesterday? You said you were kidnapped, I believe.” Bernie squeaked in alarm.  
“You’re not going to send me back, are you?? Ohhh I’ve caused you too much trouble haven’t I, I’m sorry!” she wailed. Byleth closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow breath.  
“You’re safe with me, Bernie. Why don’t you tell me what happened.” Bernie stopped, in the middle of dragging her hands down her face in a mild panic.  
“I’m safe?” she whispered timidly.  
“Promise.” After a moment, Bernie nodded and took a few calming breaths.

“Well…” she began, then hesitated. “I… I was kidnapped. More or less. My mother wanted me to study at the Garreg Mach monastery, you see. I didn’t want to go – to be in a strange place, with strange people I don’t know? Awful. Terrible. Very bad. But she had the guards bundle me up in the middle of the night – I was halfway there before I realised what was going on.” Bernie took a deep breath to steady herself, then found herself continuing – the words coming easier now that she had begun to talk. “I didn’t have a plan when I ran from the guards, I just got so scared and had to get away. It was so _stupid_ of me – I have no supplies and no money, what was I even thinking…”

“I think you were very brave,” Byleth said, in her reassuringly neutral voice. There was something about her soft cadence that put Bernie relatively at ease.  
“I don’t feel very brave,” she replied, shaking her head.  
“It would have been easier for you to go along with it all, right?” Byleth cocked her head in question.  
“I… I suppose.” Byleth only nodded in response. They sat in silence for a few moments before Benadetta ventured to speak again.

“What about you? Who were those people chasing us yesterday?” Byleth’s mouth opened for a moment, then closed again – forming a thin line. “You aren’t a… a _murderer_ , are you??” Bernie squeaked, and Byleth laughed despite herself.  
“No, no – nothing like that. I suppose I do owe you some explanation after leading you deep into the woods.” Her brow creased thoughtfully, and she clasped her hands together in her lap. Bernie found her difficult to read, but she seemed in this moment, very uncertain.

“You said you were in trouble when I woke up,” she offered. Byleth nodded slowly.  
“Yes. Yes, I did say that. The men chasing us… it’s hard to explain. They were from the Church.”  
“The _Church??_ ” Bernie was incredulous. “What did you _do?_ ” Byleth sighed, and her expression turned unfathomably sad.  
“We didn’t do anything – that’s the truth. But a powerful member of the Church has been hunting us for some time. I believe the charge is ‘defiance of the Goddess’ will,’ though I know in my heart…” Byleth stopped, struggling with the words, and frowning in frustration. “Well, regardless – we’ve managed to avoid them for some time. The closer we come to the monastery however, the more we risk being caught.”

“Why not travel far away?” Bernie asked, wide eyed. “Surely they can’t follow you all the way across Fodlan.” Byleth shook her head sadly.  
“We had stayed away – for a long time. They largely left us alone. But Seteth has… family at the monastery. We managed to keep in contact with them for a few years, but we haven’t heard from them for months. I’m afraid something has happened to them.” The wyvern suddenly lifted his head and placed in her lap. Absently, she scratched the scales behind his neck frill, and lowered her head to place a kiss on the top of his broad head. “Don’t worry, Cichol. We’ll make sure they’re safe.” She murmured. Bernadetta frowned, a thought suddenly dawning on her.

“Where _is_ Seteth?” she wondered aloud. Byleth looked up in surprise.  
“Oh. He’ll be back by nightfall, don’t worry.” She said. Bernie felt mystified – and it must have shown on her face. Hesitantly Byleth ventured an explanation.  
“He… scouts the area during the day. We can’t linger in place for too long, especially this close to the monastery.”  
“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” said Bernie, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something still felt odd about it.  
“I tend to hunt at night – what we can buy in the villages only carries us so far. Our paths mostly cross at the beginning and end of each day.” Her gaze turned sad again.  
“That sounds very lonely.”  
“It can be – though I have Cichol here to keep me company during the day, and Seteth has his Bright Eyes…” Byleth laughed, but the sound was hollow. The wyvern made a low rumbling noise. “It’s just how it is for now. Maybe one day…” she said, trailing off. She cast her eyes at the burned out remains of the fire then shook herself.

“Idle wishes. Enough of that,” she said, then looked to Bernie. “What about you? As you said, you ran away without a plan. I would like to help you find your feet at least. Where do you want to go from here?”

“What do _you_ want, Bernadetta?”

\-----

_“To be left alone,”_ the young girl had said. She seemed very lost in the world, Byleth thought, and she wondered what kind of treatment she had endured that neither home nor the shelter of the monastery seemed any more appealing than the company of two strangers hiding in the woods.

She had given Bernie the option to travel with them for a bit – not forever of course, but while she figured out what she wanted to do. It wasn’t an easy life, but the girl seemed willing to try. Over time, they discovered she could handle a bow – hunting wasn’t her strong suit, but she had the power to defend herself. They learned she was skilled with a needle – a skill she happily put to use when Byleth would risk venturing into villages for supplies or paying mercenary work. Bernadetta would venture out with her and would take on mending work – allowing her to purchase some supplies of her own and start to gain some semblance of independence.

It was occasionally an awkward existence, but the young girl’s constant terror and anxiety seemed to settle in their quiet company as the weeks went by. Regularly she would be left to her own devices, and she did seem perfectly at ease with the solitude. She was a sweet girl, and Byleth was growing fond of her. Perhaps she had been starved for company for too long, but it was comforting to have someone she could talk to, even if she was hesitant to trust their secrets to her. Bernie was suspicious of course – Byleth knew the excuses they made for their absences didn’t hold much water, but the girl had let it lie. For that she was grateful.

\-----

“Where are we headed?” Seteth turned to see Bernadetta walking back to their camp, Bright Eyes padding easily behind her. He suppressed a smile, though he was inwardly pleased to see how quickly she had grown used to the wolf at her side.  
“There is a farm not far from here,” he said, “it appears to have been abandoned for some time. The farmhouse structure is in poor repair, but the stable is standing strong. How do you feel about sleeping with a roof over your head tonight?” Her face lit up in response and he chuckled.  
“I thought that might please you. Let us decamp then.”

The abandoned farm was perhaps an hour’s walk from where they had sheltered the evening before, but the weather was turning warmer and the sky was clear and bright with stars. With a mild, evening breeze blowing gently as they walked, it was a wholly pleasant journey.

“The stars are so lovely tonight. Oh, look!” exclaimed Bernadetta, pointing at one of the celestial bodies above them. “It’s the Blue Sea Star! We should make a wish!” Seteth turned to the girl, puzzled.  
“A wish?”  
“Yes! When the Star returns to the sky, it means the Goddess has returned, right?” Seteth laughed.  
“That is correct – the Star is thought to be the Goddess’ home, and so we celebrate her rebirth – but wishing on the Star is a tradition I had not heard of.” Bernie blushed, and tittered nervously.  
“Isn’t it? Oh. I know there was a tradition involving wishing, but I must have misremembered it.” Seteth smiled softly at the young girl.  
“I’ve not heard of wishing specifically, but the faithful do offer prayers to the Goddess as part of their celebrations,” he said, by way of comfort. “Wishes _are_ very like prayers.”  
“I suppose so…” Bernadetta said, mollified for the moment.

“I’ll say a prayer then. Will you pray as well? Maybe she’ll hear us better now that her star is in the sky.” There was something so earnest about her demeanour, Seteth couldn’t help but smile.  
“I pray to the Goddess every night,” he said, laughing softly, “but I will pray even more fervently tonight. As you say… maybe she _will_ hear us better.”

\-----

They found the abandoned farm, exactly as Seteth had described. The farmhouse itself was all but collapsed – if there was anything to be salvaged from it, it was impossible to tell in the dim light of the stars. The stable was solid however and, bar a hole in the roof, would provide much needed respite from the elements. Bernie installed herself in the small loft and smiled when she realised that she could see the Star through the gap in the stable’s roof. She didn’t voice it, but she said her prayer then – a quiet wish for a quiet life. She sighed in contentment and felt – maybe for the first time in a long while – hopeful for the future.

Below her, Seteth and the wolf shared one of the stalls farthest from the stable’s door. Seteth also prayed, but his was a more desperate plea. He looked to the wolf curled up beside him and stroked her fur as he silently begged the Goddess to let him be with his loved ones again. To let them stand together instead of eternally missing each other with the turn of the morning’s star.

Before turning in to rest, Seteth carefully laid out a change of clothes in readiness, and shed his own, wrapping himself in the heavy, old cloak he slept in. Once there was a time that he had felt vulnerable and embarrassed by his own nakedness – now it was just a matter of practicality. He curled up next to the wolf to await the dawn. To await the change that continued to separate them every day. He wondered – hopelessly, and not for the first time – if he would ever hold the woman he loved in his arms again.

“Good night, Byleth,” he whispered as he gently ruffled the thick fur of her neck. “Good night, my love.”


	4. Dawn of the Blue Sea Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta learns the truth about Byleth and Seteth's odd arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really struggling with where I want to insert particular scenes. This chapter was going to be longer, but I've decided to break it up into two chapters to keep it from being too messy and disjointed.

Sunlight bearing down on his head woke Seteth from restless dreams. Across from him, as every morning, he saw the soft form of his love – resting her head on her hands as if they were still paws. Sadly, he moved to nudge her awake with his head – but he found that he could not. He tried again to lift his head, and the motion felt all wrong – he could barely get it off the ground. He scrabbled his hind legs to try pull himself up, but he could get no purchase with his claws – instead, succeeding only in rolling over, squashing his face against the hard floor. His… face? Gingerly, he lifted a wing – bringing a claw to where his scaley snout should have been. But he had no claws – and the probing of his digits revealed only soft flesh and fur. Or rather, hair. Rousing fully, he looked at himself as well as he was able to without a mirror – human flesh, human arms, human legs, human hands.

A wordless noise of distress and wonder escaped him – and across from him, the eyes of his love fluttered open – widening as she beheld him. She cried out. Without words they both scrambled to meet each other, pressing as close as their bodies would allow. Tears flowed freely down the soft curve of her cheeks, and he moved to kiss them away – to cover every inch of her sweet face with all the love this curse had denied them.

“Is the magic broken? How long will this last?” she whispered, her voice wavering with an edge of desperation. He could feel his own tears rolling down his face.  
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He said, his voice as broken as his heart.

\-----

 _“Seteth!”_ Bernie started awake at Byleth’s distraught cry. She strained her ears to listen and caught the sound of a broken, gasping sob. _“Please don’t leave me again…”_ Byleth whimpered, her desperate plea barely audible. As she lay in the loft, the wheels in her mind began to turn, and everything she had felt was odd about her new friends began to click into place.

“Oh. Oh no.” she murmured to herself, as her own tears started to work their way over her face. She knew in her heart that when she came down from the loft, only Byleth and her wyvern would be there – and the truth of why was too painful. The stoic woman was hard to read at the best of times, but when she grieved… Bernie had never seen such sad eyes. It was as if someone had collected all the tears in the world and… and… trapped them in there. She grimaced. _Very poetic, Bern._ She thought, unimpressed with herself – even as her face leaked with misery. Slowly she sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. She waited until her tears finally stopped coming, dried her face, and then resigned herself to looking miserable.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way down the ladder the floor of the stable.  
“Byleth?” she ventured. The woman was silent as she approached. As she got closer, she saw her – the wyvern’s head was butted up against Byleth’s face, her arms wrapped around his jaw. Tears squeezed out of her tightly shut eyes. Bernie’s own eyes stung again at the scene before her.

“Bright Eyes?” Byleth’s eyes blinked open and she tilted her face towards where Bernie stood. Bernie feared she might have been angry to be disturbed – but there was only desperation and utter despair in her eyes. Hot tears continued to course down her cheeks.  
“I knew she was clever, love,” she whispered to the wyvern. “As clever as she is kind.” Bernie could feel her own tears begin to spill over once more.

“How long… have you both been like this?” she asked softly. Byleth took in a ragged breath, her response barely audible.  
_“Five years…”_ Bernadetta breathed in sharply, then dropped to her knees beside her.  
“Five _years_??” came her horrified reply. She reached for Byleth, lightly touching her shoulder. “I’m… I’m so sorry. Is this some sort of magic?”  
“A curse – I think.” Byleth frowned in thought. “Or a spell gone awry. Divine protection backfiring, perhaps. I was not… awake when the spell was cast. I awoke as a wolf – and have become one every sundown since.”  
“And Seteth becomes a Wyvern every morning?” Bernie offered tentatively. Byleth nodded.  
“Yes. Although… It was different this morning. He… he didn’t change at sun’s first light. Is there something different now? Or is this just a fleeting moment of hope being dangled before us like bait just out of reach?” Byleth’s gaze was unfocused, staring dejectedly into the middle distance.

“Is… is there anything I can do to help?” Bernie asked quietly.  
“I don’t know.” Byleth whispered. “We’ve searched for so long for an answer…”

The wyvern looked up from Byleth then, and huffed. After a moment, he snaked his long neck over to their shared pack and pulled it across the stall with his teeth – before delicately trying to nose his way into it. Byleth held out her hand to stop him and began to unpack each item – holding them up for his inspection. Communication must have been hard between them over the years, but it seemed that they had found ways to manage it over time. She kept holding up items until she came to a small notebook. The wyvern nudged it with his nose to indicate she had found the item he sought. Byleth looked up at the wyvern and frowned – pursing her lips in thought.  
“Is there something in the book?” The wyvern shook his great head.  
“Is it about your search for answers?” Bernie suggested. The wyvern snorted and bobbed its head a little. “Oh, did you want to look at some books then? What about a library?” Byleth absently stroked the side of the wyvern’s head.  
“The Monastery’s library has a wealth of knowledge… But we have not been able to search there. It has not been safe to venture near Garreg Mach since we fled – the Archbishop’s forces are always on the hunt for us.”

“Let me go,” Bernie said, the words tripping from her tongue before she could stop them. “I’m no one to these people – just little, ol’ Bernie. Maybe there’s something there I can find.” Byleth looked up to the wyvern quickly, then back to Bernadetta. She was unsure, but something sparked in her eyes.  
“I could not ask –“ she began before the wyvern snaked his head over to snuffle at Bernie’s head affectionately. “We… would be grateful.”  
“Leave it to Bernie!” the young girl exclaimed with a new determination. “I’ll read every book in that library if I have to!”

With slow, deliberate movements, Byleth shuffled over to where Bernie knelt and drew her into a hug. Her grip was soft at first, then grew tighter around her – the weight of the stoic woman’s grief bearing down on both of them.  
“Thank you,” Byleth murmured.  
“Happy to help,” Bernie chirruped, suddenly nervous at all the attention she was now on the receiving end of. “You’ll have to tell me more about what happened so I know what to look for though,” she said sheepishly.

“Yes, of course.” Byleth’s voice settled back into it’s comfortable neutral tone and she slowly pulled back from the girl. She nodded slowly, then looked up at her, her gaze uncertain.

“I need a moment to collect myself.” Bernie smiled and shook her head.  
“You need more than a moment – I think you need a nap.” The corners of Byleth’s mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a smile.  
“You could be right.” Bernie stood and brushed herself off.  
“Tell me about it later then – I’ll go for a walk! Maybe I’ll find something interesting in the collapsed farmhouse.” Byleth nodded, grateful.  
“Alright then – please be careful.”  
“I will!” she called cheerfully as she fetched her bow and headed for the stable door. “Get some rest!”

\-----

Byleth watched the young girl leave, then turned back to the wyvern.  
“I don’t want to hope… do you think… will there be anything left in the monastery’s library to find?” she said in a low voice. The wyvern looked back up at her with sad eyes, then huffed. Byleth closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“If she can’t help us...” she whispered as she curled up at the wyvern’s side, pillowing Seteth’s old cloak beneath her head, and letting her eyes close – fatigue suddenly bearing down on her like an inexorable tide.

_“...Maybe she can find Flayn.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some exposition is coming. 👀


	5. Moments Immediately Preceding Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seteth reflects on his memories of the past - Byleth dreams of the goddess within her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in flashback territory, y'all.

He had been wary of the young professor to begin with – beyond being the offspring of a heralded former Knight of Seiros, no one knew anything about her. Despite that, she was readily accepted by the Archbishop without a single moment of hesitation. More than anything else, it was Rhea’s immediate confidence in her that disturbed him. As earnest and forthright as the young woman appeared, Rhea’s insistence that she take on the role of Professor belied machinations he wasn’t even sure the new professor understood – any more than he grasped them himself.

Over the months that followed, Byleth more than proved herself – as steadfast and trustworthy a person as first appearances seemed to imply. She stepped into her new role with a genuine desire to perform as best she could and do right by her students. 

Seteth found her to be wholly innocent of the conspiracies surrounding her appointment, though that fact did nothing to alleviate his unease. The more he grew to trust her, the more his unease grew – where it had once been purely a concern of the safety of the monastery and his kin, now he feared for her. As capable a warrior as she was in battle, the new professor was guileless – wary where needed, but eager to trust and sincere in all of her interactions. Over her short time at the monastery, she had become beloved by the students and faculty alike – and Seteth had not been immune to her kindness of spirit.

He had fallen in love with her – and more surprisingly, she had returned his affections. And that, perhaps, was the crux of the issue – the final straw. The Archbishop had tolerated their friendship, though undoubtedly blamed him for Byleth’s increasing wariness of her. However, the day that she had spied them together on the bridge at the foot of the Goddess tower, he had seen a quiet fury burning in her eyes that he had not seen in centuries. The moment itself had been innocuous – memorable only for the palpable dread that filled him afterward. He had brushed some errant hairs behind her ear, and she had smiled at him so fondly. But it had been enough.

“You have turned her from me,” Rhea accused him when they were next alone. Seteth shook his head, but made no move to deny her words.  
“What is she to you?” he asked quietly. “Ever since she arrived at the monastery, you have been plainly invested in her progress. It is clear to me that you have a plan for her, though what that could be and why eludes me.” Rhea regarded him with a cold stare.  
“My interest in our young professor is not your concern – just know that she is wreathed in destiny, and I will not allow your affections for her to keep her from it.” Her voice was steady and low, but it held a threatening edge to it. He held her gaze, though he could feel the colour draining from his face.

He straightened, then inclined his head in a polite bow.  
“If that is all, Your Grace,” he said in a voice carefully void of emotion, then turned to leave. Under her breath he heard her mutter – and the words turned his blood cold at the resolved malice on the edge of them.

“… Or her affections for _you_ ,” came the quiet whisper.

\-----

Byleth blinked – she felt as if she had been asleep for an age, but that couldn’t possibly be true. Around her was inky blackness, and before her stood a throne of chiselled rock. It was not the first time she had visited this timeless place, but something was different this time. Something was wrong. If she was here then time had stalled, but she had no recollection of what had happened or why. The energy around her was like an overtightened string of a fiddle – at any moment, it felt like something was going to snap back violently.

On the throne above her, a young girl regarded her thoughtfully. Her fine features were creased in a frown as she considered Byleth.

“I don’t know why I’m here this time,” she blurted out, panic rising in her voice.  
“This is… unexpected,” mused the girl. “There is a powerful magic threatening to tear the heart from you, and it is… taxing me to keep it at bay. As you and I are one, this magic threatens us both.” She was quiet for some time, then sighed in resignation.  
“There is no other choice.” She said with a finality that struck Byleth to her core.  
“What choice?” she said, dreading the response.

“Do you recall your father’s words? You were a child who neither cried nor laughed. I think that I am the one to blame. It may be that I have been asleep, but I have always been within you. However Rhea managed it, she allowed me to exist within you. Within you, I have managed to find my power once again – the power of a Goddess.” She levelled her gaze steadily on Byleth, then spoke with a voice full of portent.

“My name is Sothis – I am the one who watches over Fodlan and the creatures dwelling there.” Byleth stared at her, eyes wide. She made to speak but could not summon her voice.

“To shield us both from the magic that threatens to consume such a vital part of you, you will need the power of a God. And so – I must relinquish my power and all that I am… to you. The time has come for you and I to join as one. And when that comes to pass… then I shall disappear.” The child goddess closed her eyes and shook her head sadly.  
“No, you can’t – “ Byleth started, knowing in her heart that there truly was no choice. Sothis chuckled quietly.  
“When I say disappear, I do not mean that all I am will be no more. My soul will join with yours, and you and I will never be apart. But… I will no longer have a chance to speak to you. I shall miss it. We’ve been through a lot together… I am glad it was _you_ to whom my fate was bound.” Byleth nodded.  
“Thank you, Sothis… For everything.”

“Now,” said Sothis in a matter-of-fact tone, “we must pray. For if we share this wish, our two spirits will join as one. My wish is to protect that which magic seeks to remove from you – that precious heart – full of love for those around you. And yours… it need not be spoken – I know your heart as if it were my own…”

As Sothis’ spirit became one with her own, Byleth heard the final whispers of the Goddess.

“I confess… I do not know if we will be able to hold back the tide of this dark spell completely… Your heart will be protected, but there will be… _a cost…_ ”

\-----

 _“Brother!”_ Seteth looked up sharply at the urgent hiss of Flayn’s voice to see her eyes wide with apprehension. He pushed himself up from his desk, knocking over an inkwell as he did so, but he barely noticed.  
“Flayn, what has happened?” he said as he hurriedly crossed the room to where she stood in the threshold. She hesitated.  
“I… perhaps it is nothing, brother, but I saw the professor with Rhea…” Seteth’s stomach lurched inside him and he found himself gripping Flayn’s shoulder.  
“The professor seemed… out of sorts. She walked as if in a dream. I think Rhea was taking her to the Holy Tomb… Brother, what is going on? Rhea has been acting so strangely of late.” She frowned up at him, and he returned her questioning gaze helplessly.  
“Truthfully, I do not know. Rhea has a vested interest in Byleth – some grand purpose that she will not reveal to me.” Seteth swallowed nervously. “I… have angered her, and I fear she means to take it out on Byleth – there can be no innocent reason for her to go to the Tomb.” His voice sounded hollow and distant in his ears, as if his words were being said by someone else. He looked to Flayn, but found he could not focus on her.

“I… I have to go – Byleth needs my help.” He fumbled for a moment, grasping a small key in his pocket and pressing it into Flayn’s palm. “I do not know what Rhea intends to do, but if anything should happen…” Flayn’s eyes widened in horror.  
“Brother, what are you talking about-“  
“Flayn. There is a locked compartment in the bottom drawer of my desk – I have some documents… Byleth’s father’s diary… other things that should be kept safe. Guard your heart, and if Rhea is ever to question you, disavow any knowledge of what I have said, and what you have seen.”

 _“Father…”_ she whispered, and he caught her up in a fierce embrace.  
“Stay safe, my dear daughter,” he whispered quietly back, then abruptly left her alone in his office.

He tried to keep his gait as slow and even as possible, so as not to raise alarm. As he drew closer to the Tomb his sense of urgency only increased – as he reached the stone stairs leading down, he was jogging steadily to his destination. As Flayn had suspected, the doors to the Tomb were unsecured – very few people even knew of the Tomb’s existence. His was heart pounding as he pushed open the heavy door, dreading what he might find within.

At the end of the chamber, he saw her – the Archbishop stood with her back to him, deep in concentration as she channelled a spell. Before her, was Byleth – her body resting on the stairs at the base of the slab rock throne as if she had just fallen asleep there. He ran to them and dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her hand. Rhea jerked as she noticed him.

“Don’t touch her, you fool!” she growled in alarm, but it was already too late. Whatever magic she had been channelling on Byleth sizzled along his own skin the moment his fingers closed around hers. The blood in his veins lanced through him, and he cried out in pained surprise. Byleth did not wake, but a quiet whimper passed her lips.

“Rhea…” he said in a low voice, gritting his teeth. There was hesitation in her eyes for the briefest of moments, and then they hardened against his gaze.

“What have you _done?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	6. Tales and Travelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seteth relates the tale of what happened next. Bernie travels to Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been hit hard by fatigue and the depression lately, but I'm slowly getting through this one. Determined to finish so I can do some fluffy one shots in the post-fic space :3

Byleth’s skin was deathly pale – if not for the semi-regular huff of her shallow breaths, he might have thought her dead. Whatever magic Rhea had been channelling through her had stopped the moment he had closed his hand around hers, but something else was building within her – something powerful. Her skin thrummed with an unknowable energy, and while the residual magic washing over him pained him greatly, he could not let her go. Instead, he watched her intently – waiting with dread to see what that building power would lead to.

Rhea stared at Byleth also – his demand for answers having fallen on deaf ears as she registered the power surging within her. The Tomb was silent as they both observed her, even their breaths barely registering in the absolute stillness.

Like a fraying cord being pulled too tightly by heavy weights, the tension in the room snapped – and a silent shockwave of radiant energy knocked both of them back violently. Seteth wheezed as he fought to regain his breath – behind him, Rhea had stumbled and fallen to her knees.

“What was _that?_ ” Seteth gasped, crawling closer again to Byleth. Rhea was shaken.  
“That power… could it be?” she murmured as she rose to her feet. She frowned then as she observed her. “No. She has not returned. I had hoped… _You._ ” She turned to Seteth with an edge of malice in her voice. “You had to interfere with my work – and now She may be lost to us yet again.” Seteth’s brow creased in confusion at her accusations, then turned back to Byleth. Her appearance had… changed. Streaks of silver threaded through her dark hair like starlight. He wondered at the cause. Rhea still seethed behind him.

“She… Byleth is a vessel, isn’t she?” he whispered. “That power… I had suspected something of the sort, but now… Just _what_ were you trying to achieve?” She levelled a scornful look at him.  
“To rid her of her affections for you – she cannot be allowed to falter in becoming the Goddess reborn.” Anger welled up inside Seteth like a flood.  
“You would destroy the love in her and risk the spirit dwelling within her out of _spite?_ Have you no respect for Byleth’s agency as a person? Or is her personhood an acceptable loss so long as the Goddess is reborn within her?” For a moment, his words seem to shake her.  
“Seteth, please understand –“  
“No. I believe I’ve heard enough.” Gingerly he stood, and took Byleth’s still unconscious form into his arms, carrying her towards the entrance of the Tomb.  
“Do not walk away from me, Seteth,” Rhea commanded.  
“Byleth needs medical attention,” he muttered, pausing only a moment as he left.  
“You would defy my will? This is _treasonous_.” He ignored her, and she stood alone in the empty tomb.

 _“Seteth!”_ her voice echoed like thunder.

\-----

Seteth paused a moment in his tale and looked up to see Bernadetta staring at him with eyes like dinner plates. He resisted the urge to flinch under her unblinking gaze. He nearly laughed – her mouth had fallen agape as she listened, and she looked rather comical. Before her, Byleth lay stretched out, and Bernie unconsciously ran her hands through the shaggy fur of her head. The wolf’s eyes were closed in contentment. Seteth did smile at that – she may have been a person in wolf’s form, but Byleth was not immune to the canid love of head scratches.

“What did you do _then?_ ” Bernie asked softly.  
“Then,” he continued, after taking a deep breath, “I took her to the infirmary. One of the professors at the monastery is a talented healer, but she could not discern nor dispel the magic that kept Byleth unconscious. By chance – or perhaps by magical timing – she roused just as the sun began to set. Nothing happened until her eyes met mine… and then she changed.” He grimaced, then averted his troubled gaze.  
“That must have been frightening,” she prompted.  
“I… have seen transformations of a similar nature before in my time, but nothing quite prepares you for the distress of a person transformed against their will.” He shook his head sadly. “For approximately a week, we observed the changes that the curse had incurred. At dawn she changed back, and I became the wyvern. An awkward change when you are stuck in an infirmary, I’m sure you’ll agree.” He chuckled.

“Rhea left us well alone for that short time – preparing her next move. When we heard whispers that the Knights were to detain us, we set off that very night. As a wyvern, I could certainly travel farther, and faster, but a wolf in the night is easier to smuggle out of a fortress. We ranged as far away as we dared. Our travels took us into the heart of the Empire for a time. Then we lost contact with my sister.” Seteth grimaced at the recollection. “We had managed to get letters in and out of the monastery for several years, but it has been months with no word. I would hope that Rhea would not harm her out of familial affection, but I cannot trust to that. Her growing obsession over the years gives me pause.” Seteth sighed.

“I suppose all the remains is getting you to the monastery,” he said, and Bernie started. Over the afternoon and evening Byleth and Seteth had taken to tell her their story, she had quite forgotten the promise she had made.  
“Oh! Yes, of course,” she mumbled nervously. She was still eager to help her new friends as best she could, but in the heat of the moment she hadn’t considered the intricacies of such a plot. Or just how many _people_ there would be.  
“I understand if you’re having second thoughts –“ Seteth said after a moment of heavy silence.  
“No! I mean – I want to help! I do, really…” Bernie frowned and Seteth chuckled.  
“There are many good people who live there – you will be safe, I can promise you that at the very least.” Bernie laughed a worried, little laugh.  
“I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that!”

\-----

In the end, it was decided that Bernadetta would assume the guise of student – the role her mother had insisted on with direct force. The idea still terrified her some, but knowing she went there willingly with her own goals tempered her fear into something tolerable. The journey to the monastery was slow. The presence of the Knights in the local villages they passed became more frequent the closer they came. Eventually, they had to part ways, and Bernie travelled to the monastery alone. Without the company of her new friends, the journey seemed infinitely more perilous – for what was she, but one small girl with a bow? Luck was with her, however, and a merchant in the last small village on her way let her travel with them.

Soon enough, the intimidating bulk of the fortress turn monastery dominated Bernie’s view, and she felt her heart quicken in her chest. The merchant dropped her at the gates of Garreg Mach. She thanked them for their trouble, then found herself bewildered and alone amongst the throng of townsfolk who crowded the market that occupied the monastery’s concourse. The creeping urge to flee to a quiet place slowly tried to take a hold of her, but she shook off the impulse and gripped her bow tighter in her hands. Determined, she pushed through the market crowd to the monastery’s main hall.

“Greetings, stranger!” Startled, Bernie leapt a full foot to her left. The guard who addressed her smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said cheerfully. Bernie took a deep breath and forced a smile.  
“No, no, it’s okay,” she said with feigned brightness.  
“I haven’t seen you around here before – did you need any directions? You look a little lost.”  
“Oh, ah… actually,” she said after a moment, “I’m a student here – or I’m supposed to be. I got lost on my way to the monastery a few weeks back. Can you tell me where student administration is?” The gatekeeper smiled brightly.  
“Oh! No trouble at all. The student admissions are handled by the Office of the Archbishop – if you keep heading straight through the Entrance Hall, and Reception Hall, you’ll turn left right before the door that goes out to the Cathedral bridge. Take the first left up the stairs and then the Faculty offices will be down the hall to the right.” Bernie nodded slowly as he rattled off the directions. Seemed simple enough.  
“Straight, left, left, right. Got it.” He smiled encouragingly at her.  
“Good luck! The administration staff there should be able to help you!” She forced another smile, and waved as she made her way in.  
“Thanks for your help!” she said, screaming internally.

The halls weren’t quite as crowded as the market had been at least, and the atmosphere was hushed in either prayerful reverence or respect. There were some awkward questions to answer once Bernie found the administration office, but through some convincing, her enrolment was confirmed, and one of the staff gave her a short tour – ending at the small dormitory room that had been reserved for her. At that, they left her to settle in. Bernie was exhausted and anxious – but she had a stack of curriculum and enrolment documentation, a room to hide in, with a door that she could lock tight.

She did just that. After locking the door, she dropped her paperwork on the small desk, and placed her few possessions neatly at the foot of her bed. Miraculously, it felt, the items she had left behind when she fled her father’s guards had been delivered in her stead. She wondered what lies the guards had told her parents about her disappearance. Bernie slumped onto the simple bed and found herself overwhelmed with weariness. Curling up on top of the sheets, she let her eyes drift shut.

Her search would begin tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep splitting up chapters in my outline for clarity. 👀 whoopsies. Working from my laptop at the moment because of a massive thunderstorm, so apologies for any glaring mistakes. It's a lot harder for me to proof my work away from my PC xP


	7. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth goes to the post office. Bernie runs into someone in the halls of Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This year's been a doozy for everyone, and I'm always struggling with my fatigue management and bad brain - finally managed to climb over the roadblock that was one scene in this one though, so we're getting there! Thanks very much for bearing with me. Apologies for any glaring proofing errors, I have not done a thorough re-read of this chapter yet.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’ve nothing here addressed to a _B.E._ ” Byleth allowed herself a little sigh – a quiet huff of disappointment – and nodded to the post office clerk. It was always a risk coming into the little town, whether for a supply run or – as it was at that moment – a hopeless visit to the post master’s office. Outside the town was bustling, and the sun was high. Broad daylight was risky as well, but the more people about, the easier it was to get lost in the crowd.

Byleth looked to the clerk with a resigned smile.  
“I understand. Thank you for checking, I’ll –“  
“Although…” he mumbled to himself, cutting her off unintentionally. He wore a puzzled frown as he contemplated the day’s collection of mail. “I have nothing for a _B.E._ but I do have something addressed to –“  
“Bright Eyes?” Byleth’s eyes widened imperceptibly. The clerk looked up in surprise.  
“Why yes – that’s it, exactly.” She smiled in relief as the clerk handed over the letter. “Your correspondent must be an odd one – they’ve drawn… lizards and dogs all over the back of the page. There’s no rules against it, of course, but seems a waste of writing space.”  
“Wolves and wyverns, I believe,” Byleth responded in her usual deadpan. “She’s a little odd, but quite young – she’s just left us to go to school.” A knowing smile crossed the clerk’s face, and he nodded.

“Your daughter then? You must miss her terribly.” Byleth blinked in surprise at the man’s assumption, though it caused an odd warmth to bloom in her heart.  
“… Yes. Her _father_ and I look forward to every letter. Speaking of,” she said, as she tucked the envelope into her coat, “I promised her father we’d read her letters together. I must be off.” The clerk smiled and waved her off.  
“Take care then – I’ll keep aside any more letters for you if I see ‘em.” Byleth smiled appreciatively as she excused herself with a bow of her head.

Her errands done for the day, Byleth made her way out of the town and back to their camp on the outskirts. She had seen some of the Church’s guards patrolling that day, but gladly they did not seem to be on high alert, and she managed to avoid their notice. As unobservant as they seemed, she would always be wary until she was well enough away from danger.

Seteth was on alert when she arrived back. His great wings tucked easily against his sides – he was at rest, but ready to spring up and away at a moment’s notice. His noble head looked up eagerly towards her as she approached, and she all but skipped across the camp to wrap her arms around his head, placing a gentle kiss on his scaly brow.  
“There was a letter for us today, my love,” she said as she cradled his head in her arms, her voice hushed with a muted excitement. “Shall I read it?” The Wyvern pulled his head from her grasp so that he could bob his head in assent, shuffling anxiously. Carefully Byleth fished the letter out of her coat. Examining it now, it seemed quite bulky for a standard letter. As the clerk had noted, the outer layer was indeed covered in little doodles of wolves and wyverns – Bernie was quite the artist, it would seem. Byleth smiled at the cute, little drawings that surrounded the forwarding address, before carefully prising open the simple wax seal.

Unexpectedly, within Bernadetta’s letter was another sealed note – accounting for the bulkiness. There was no outer address information, and the paper was of a finer quality. Only a very non-descript wax seal held the letter closed. Byleth frowned, puzzling over the enclosed letter for a moment, then worked the wax seal carefully open.

She recognised the careful script before she read a single word of the hidden missive – drawing a sharp breath and looking to Seteth in shock. Steadying herself against his bulk, her voice wavered as she began to read the letter aloud.

> _Dearest Brother and ~~Professor~~ Byleth,_
> 
> _I pray this letter finds you both safe and whole. I am so dreadfully sorry for the delay in writing, however I can no longer trust that any missive I send would not be waylaid on its way to you._
> 
> _While our dear kin has remained unfailingly kind to me, I have found my own movements within the monastery constantly shadowed by the Knights. For my safety, I am told, but I fear her true intent is all too transparent._
> 
> _Please know that I am well however, and that I miss you both unbearably every day._
> 
> _Your dearest, Flayn._
> 
> _P.S. A new student has arrived at the Academy, just this month past. She is a shy, frightened thing, but she seems determined. I see her often in the library, late at night – studying diligently. I hope she finds the knowledge she seeks._
> 
> _F._

Byleth felt Seteth’s snout nose against the side of her face gently, and she looked up to face him. He draped his head over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around the bulk of the wyvern’s neck in a tight embrace. Belatedly she realised she was trembling. Seteth let out a tiny hissing whine. A riot of emotions filled her – relief, joy, and intense anxiety. She could only guess at what her reptilian companion must be feeling – emotions that he could not meaningfully express in this state.

Suddenly the wyvern looked up behind her, though she paid him no mind. He snuffled at her ear, huffing soft breaths to get her attention. Reluctantly she turned – and realised with dismay how low the sun had become. With a defeated sigh, she turned again to kiss him on the snout before hurriedly seeking to shed her layers of clothing. As a rule she tried to only wear loose inner layers – even still, it was always awkward to wriggle out of a linen shift when your limbs turned into paws, and your body had doubled in size.

“You’ll have to read Bernie’s letter for me, sweetheart,” she said weakly as she wrapped the heavy cloak about her and pressed her weight against his side as she waited for the change.

Soon enough, the sun dipped below the horizon. As the last of the light faded, she felt Seteth’s body shift heavily beside her, even as her own body seemed to rapidly expand and break – twisting and stretching uncomfortably to conform to the bestial shape that magic demanded. Though the change took place in mere moments, it felt to Byleth an eternity. Every time it seemed to drain her of energy, and once the change was complete, her limbs shook with a temporary fatigue. The wyvern’s bulk no longer firm against her side, she stumbled sideways. She heard shuffling, and then felt the press of his bare flesh as he wrapped his arms tight against the thick fur of her neck.

“She’s alive, Byleth,” he whispered desperately into her fur. “My sweet girl…” A sob borne of long held back fear and refusal to hope wracked his body and she leaned into his embrace, trying to impart what comfort she could in this form. He clung to her for some time, until the chill of the evening air began to seep into his bare skin. As he dressed, Byleth found the letters again and delicately picked them up with her sharp teeth, waiting patiently for him to finish. He took the letters in hand and sat once more at her side.

With a rueful smile, he leaned against her.

“Alright my love, let us see what Bernadetta has to say.”

\-----

Bernie whined in frustration as she closed her book with a thump, and slumped with her head against the desk, hands clasped behind her neck. A librarian _shushed_ her disapprovingly as they passed her by.

 _Another dead end_ , she thought miserably. She had been so optimistic when she first managed to get some time free in the Monastery’s library. Books on all subjects lined the library’s walls – so many that it overwhelmed her. How could there not be something here? But as the weeks wore on, it quickly became apparent that there were fields of study with notably sparse literature – and Bernie feared she may have to make good on her promise to “read every book” to uncover a scrap of hope.

She cast a dejected, sidelong glance at her notes. Her notes…  
_Gone??_ The librarian shot her a disapproving glare from across the room at her squeal of dismay, as she sat bolt upright. She looked around in a panic, looking for the mystery note-thief and then very nearly jumped out of her skin at the lazy drawl of the person suddenly at her side.

“You have a very odd reading list,” yawned Linhardt. “Books on the Church of Seiros, magical healing, fables, dark magic… _Animal husbandry?”_ he paused, squinting at the page. “I wonder how it all connects.”  
“Give me that!” Bernie stammered in a frantic whisper, as she flailed at him. He stepped back easily, avoiding her swipes, continuing to skim through her notes.  
“I can’t imagine you’d find much on dark magic, of course,” he murmured thoughtfully. “This is a Church library after all – anything of an unseemly nature has sadly been taken out of circulation.” Bernie’s face fell.  
“Really?” she whispered, crestfallen. Linhardt’s brow knit together in thought.  
“Alas, yes. It has been a dreadful inconvenience for my own research. Perhaps, though, if I knew what you were looking for…” He shrugged. Bernie’s jaw worked wordlessly for a moment, then she snatched her note papers from his hand.  
“I—It’s a secret! I’m sorry!” she squeaked, and then fled the library in a panic – leaving Linhardt staring after her with a bemused look on his face.

The sleepy scholar sighed wistfully as he watched her flee.  
“How curious,” he murmured to himself.

\-----

 _Oh no oh no oh nooooo…_ her mind raced to every worst-case scenario as she barrelled through the hallways of the Monastery’s second floor. Was he secretly a spy for the Archbishop? Maybe he had already worked out her goal and had told her? What if her friends were in even more danger?! What if—

“Oh!” Bernie’s train of thought came slamming to a halt in much the same way as she herself did. Her haphazard notes launched in all directions as she stumbled back in a daze, and she found herself face to face with a young girl – one with hair the colour of seafoam.

“Oh my goodness! Bernadetta, I am so terribly sorry – how careless of me,” she exclaimed.  
“No! No it was my fault!” Bernie stammered, though the young girl shook her head and smiled – shushing her with a gesture.  
“Nonsense, here, let me help you collect your study notes.” Bernie nodded dumbly, and they set about collecting the papers together. When they were finished, she handed Bernie the rest of her papers. “There now, all better. Were you done in the library for the night? You seem a little shaken. Shall I walk you to your room?”  
“Oh, I uh. Thank you.” Bernie said, and allowed her to lead on.

They talked of inconsequential things as they walked – the fine weather they had been experiencing at the monastery, what Bernie thought of the classes. The girl chattered cheerfully, though Bernie noticed an undercurrent of tension – her jovial banter a mere façade. They slowed their walk as they drew near the dormitories – there were very few people about at this hour.

“Have you heard from your family?” the girl asked with a forced casualness. “You must miss them very much.” Bernie paused for a beat and did not meet the girl’s eyes.  
“Not yet, but I'm hoping I’ll hear from them soon,” she replied carefully. The girl nodded, and for the briefest of moments, her eyes cast down in disappointment.  
“Worry not, I am sure they are keeping well,” she said brightly, before turning on her heals. “Sleep well Bernadetta – and don’t rush so in the halls!”  
“I- I’ll try! Good night, Flayn!” Bernie called nervously as she watched the young girl skip away into the night.

 _Flayn..._ Her hyperactive nerves settled as her focus sharpened on the girl. She had seen her from across the Cathedral when she first arrived at Garreg Mach – solemn and solitary, but never quite alone as the Archbishop’s people kept her in their careful sight. Flayn had not noticed her then – but Bernie had recognised her. Her ethereal bearing and shared features struck her immediately – and would have even without Seteth’s loving recollection of his sister. A whim sharper than her social terror had captured her imagination then.

For all her planning and overthought schemes however, it was pure chance that caused them finally to meet – not for the last time, Bernie had barrelled blindly into her in a panic. She had been sweet and forgiving even then. It had been all Bernie could to do to fumble in her pocket for a crumpled note, squeak out the phrase, “You dropped this,” as she handed it over, then turned tail and run. Days later, Flayn had found her in the library. They exchanged pleasantries then as well, skirting around the things they wanted to say by discussing Bernie’s own family as a proxy – a convention she felt surprisingly at ease with. As much love as she had for her own family, they also inspired in her equal parts terror and dread. There was something almost… comforting about pretending her new friends were her real family.

When Flayn had left her again to her own devices, she found that she had left behind a note – one with a letter enclosed. The note was short and to the point:

> _I was most grateful for your message – I’ve had no news of my brother and the Professor in ever so long. If you have any power to do so, please – please bear this letter to them._
> 
> _F._

As increasingly unsure as she was in the matters of research, her had heart leapt at the chance to do something so simple yet important. Quickly she had penned a letter of her own – There hadn’t been much to say yet, but it didn’t matter – it only needed to carry forth Flayn’s own message to its destination.

Before sealing up the two letters, she scrabbled amongst her notes – tearing part of the page she found and folding it up with Flayn’s letter and her own. It had felt good and useful – after another fruitless day of study, it was something at least she could achieve.

She had taken the letter to the post master’s office the very next day. It had been weeks since then. As she turned to back to her dormitory room for the night, she prayed once more that the letter had not gone astray.

\-----

> _Dear Bright Eyes and S._
> 
> _My research is going slow – but I am trying my hardest. As soon as I find anything I will write again. Please stay safe._
> 
> _I’ve made a new friend, I thought you should know. She is sweet and kind, and has hair just like S._
> 
> _Lots of love,  
>  Bernie_

Seteth smiled softly at her brief words. It was good to know Bernadetta had made it to the Monastery safely. She had a good heart, and that even now she was trying to help them touched him more than he had words to convey. He turned to his lupine companion and found her to be snuffling at a folded piece of scrap paper on the ground. Seteth frowned in puzzlement, then reached for it – it must have been with the two letters.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he unfolded the page. It was creased and torn and stained with ink splotches, but the visage within was unmistakable – rendered in ink, a face – _Flayn’s face_ – the quick, haphazard lines of a secretive study. He looked to Byleth wordlessly, eyes swimming with tears, and showed the wolf the sketch. She cocked her head side to side for a moment, then flattened her ears back and made a sad little whine.

“She’s captured her likeness exactly,” Seteth murmured, and Byleth gave him a little lick on the cheek. He folded the sketch carefully and put it carefully away with the letters. “When we see her again, I must make sure to thank her.”

“When we see her again…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note re: the addressing of mail - I broke my brain trying to figure out what the postal situation would be in Fodlan because there is no clear analogous real world time period that fire emblem reflects but my general history research indicates that the concept of a postal service existed at least as far back as the mid 1600s so I dragged out my copy of Jane Eyre because I know that girl writes some letters and used that as inspiration for my Fodlan Postal Service™. All of Jane's correspondence in the book is addressed to J.E. and does not go directly to her residence like modern post, so that's where we're at here. Anyway I kinda want to read jane Eyre again now.


	8. Tempest in a Teacup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie continues to research the curse, but her efforts have not gone unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one, I'm still here!
> 
> I also recently finished an art piece I started a while back for this story :) I'm very bad on juggling projects, but now I'm back to finishing the story.
> 
> Art - ["Confrontation at the Goddess Tower"](https://twitter.com/morganaliART/status/1350823626602254337?s=20)  
> 

“I see we have a new student at the Officer’s Academy,” the Archbishop commented as she poured a fresh cup of tea for herself. As it often was, her expression was one of serenity and piety, but something calculating lurked behind her eyes. Flayn focused on her cup of tea – inhaling the subtle smell of spices as she schooled her own expression to one of indifference.

“I suppose we do,” she replied, taking a sip – noting the flavour with a bitter pang of longing. “Four-spice blend, is it? How delightful.” A subtle smile graced Rhea’s face.  
“Have you talked to her much?”  
“Only a little – she is easily startled. I find her in need of a friendly influence.” The Archbishop cast her gaze down at her own tea as she took a sip, then smiled.  
“Of course. You have always had a generous heart, my dear.”  
“That is kind of you to say, Your Grace,” Flayn responded, keeping focus on the cup in her hands.

\-----

Bernie rubbed her eyes in the dim candlelight. Despite the early hour, the stacks on the second level of the library were too far from the large, stained-glass windows on the external wall to benefit from the muted light that filtered through. Listlessly, she thumbed through the index of another desperately clutched straw – sighing in disappointment (though not surprise) when the book titled, “Maladies of the Head and Heart – Practical Potions and Alchemical Assistance,” was nothing more than a glorified recipe book for alcoholic cocktails.

 _Why is this even in here?_ Bernadetta thought, squinting in puzzlement. Resigned, she re-shelved the book where she found it on the bottom shelf, then rested her hands on her knees, preparing to stand.

“You’ve got lots of notes here, but you don’t appear to be asking the right questions.” Jerking in surprise, Bernie bumped her head on the shelf before her – squealing in alarm as she did.  
_“Owie ow ow ow…”_ she whimpered under her breath, before turning to see Linhardt lounging on the floor against the balcony railing – her months of notes spread out before him for his perusal. “Hey!” she said in protest, though he ignored her – intently reading.

“I must know what you are trying to achieve here, watching you work so furiously has been utterly fascinating. You don’t strike me as the kind to have enemies, so I cannot figure out why you are fixated on curses – I’d suggest perhaps that you were jealously trying to ward off suitors from some target of affection, but you’re otherwise so solitary, I cannot believe that is true.” He yawned then, and looked up at her with a sleepy, yet intent stare.

“Who exactly are you trying to curse?”  
“I-I’m not trying to curse anybody!” she stammered. He paused a moment, then nodded.  
“Ah, breaking a curse then – that was my other hypothesis, though I was unsure as to which. A much more difficult proposition – unfortunately any warlock worth their salt can place a curse on someone.” Bernie stared at him, mouth agape. Amidst the thousand racing thoughts in her mind, a spark of hope – or desperation – bubbled to the surface.

“Do… you know much about curses?” she asked tentatively. The sleepy scholar shrugged. “Can you help me?” He grimaced and cocked his head in thought.  
“Breaking a curse sounds like a _lot_ of work. I am very curious as to the cause, however – and if nothing else, I may know somewhere that you might find more useful research material.” Bernie crawled over to where he sat and grabbed his hand – startled, he flinched at her sudden proximity.  
“You _do?_ ” she squeaked. _“Where??”_ Reflexively he leaned away from her, his mouth pulling in a thin line.  
“I propose a deal – you tell me about this curse, and let me finish reading your notes, and I’ll tell you where to look.” Bernie worked her jaw wordlessly as she hesitated. Was he trustworthy? He might well have been a spy for the Archbishop – but over the last few months (as far as she had seen anyway), if he wasn’t up late in the library doing his own research, he was perpetually asleep – exasperating everyone else around him. And she was desperate.  
“… Alright,” she conceded. ”But you can’t tell anyone else.” A wan smile brightened his features for a moment, and he shrugged.  
“Talking takes so much effort, why would I want do more of it?” he said as he began to stack her notes together. “Come on then, before I lose interest.” Groaning, he stood and strolled slowly away with her notes. She scrabbled up to follow after him, grabbing her study supplies as she went.

“You haven’t been at Garreg Mach long, but have you happened to hear mention of _Abyss?_ ”

\-----

The clink of ceramic caught Flayn’s attention as Rhea placed her teacup on its saucer, and shifted her weight to lean forward, linking her fingers together before her.

“May I tell you a story, my dear?” she asked in a tone that would not brook a denial. “I received some correspondence from the Count of Varley just this month past. He was _quite_ surprised to hear that his daughter had arrived here to resume her studies.” Flayn cocked her head slightly, feigning casual interest.  
“Oh?”  
“As he recounted in his missive, it seems that the Varley girl was abducted on the way to the monastery – taken by a skilled swordswoman, no less. How strange, I had thought it, that she had not written to _her family_ to assure them of her safety once she had arrived.”  
“That is most odd, indeed.” Flayn affirmed, though dread settled in the pit of her stomach at the turn of the Archbishop’s words. “Well then, I am even more glad that she has safely arrived here – how frightful!”  
“Frightful indeed,” Rhea murmured, glancing up to hold Flayn’s gaze with a serene smile. She sighed then, and stood abruptly.

“My apologies, I am afraid I have urgent matters to attend to. We shall have tea again soon.” Flayn was caught by her gaze, eyes wide. There was no questioning to her tone, only an imperative.  
“Of course, Your Grace.” Rhea nodded to her, then left her on the terrace. Flayn stared after her long after she passed from view, her face falling unconsciously into a picture of worry.

 _She knows…_ Flayn thought back over the course of the morning – every choice had been calculated to send her a message, right down to the blend of tea. Her chest tightened with a hollow anguish, her connections to her loved ones being closed off to her once again – not for the first time, the cost of their safety was her isolation from them. It was a miserable circumstance after such a brief glimmer of hope, and Flayn hated it. Idly she thought of the letter she had penned not a day or so prior, her despair turning gradually into dawning horror.

 _She knows about the letters…_ she thought as the wider implications stirred her to sudden urgency. Abandoning the tea settings, she set off at a steady march towards the Monastery’s library, throwing all caution to the wind. Her constant guard of Knights would undoubtedly report her sudden flight back to the Archbishop, but none of that mattered at present. There was no time – she had to find Bernadetta.

\-----

“… And the Professor is a vessel for the Goddess? Fascinating! I _knew_ there was something odd about her.”  
“I know it sounds crazy, but – wait, you believe me?” Bernadetta stopped dead in the dim corridor below the Monastery. Linhardt looked at her over his shoulder, though kept up his meandering pace.  
“And why not? Come on, we’re almost there.” As they rounded another tunnel corner, Bernie noticed the ambient light seemed to be getting brighter. Without warning, a guard stepped out to meet them.

“Hey you, listen up! I haven’t seen you around here before.” Linhardt looked to the guard passively as Bernie jumped behind him in fright. “What business do you have in Abyss?” The guard looked from Linhardt to Bernadetta, then back to Linhardt. The scholar stared through the guard wearily and sighed.  
“She’s one of the new students from the Officer’s Academy – she wants to do some research in the library here.” The guard frowned.  
“I don’t know, we don’t let anyone just walk around here – I’ll have to clear it with –”  
“Me.” The guard looked up in surprise.  
“Oh, Yuri! Didn’t see you there.” The handsome, young man smiled, and shook his head. For a brief moment Bernie was mesmerised – he was _beautiful_. His gaze settled on her then, his eyes flashing with something calculating and yet somehow familiar – and her awe quickly turned to fear. For a split second, his eyes widened as he beheld her, before narrowing into an expression that was as troubled as it was inscrutable.

“You shouldn’t be down here, friend,” he said in a low voice. “If you hurry back topside, I’ll forget I that saw you.” Bernie spluttered in protest.  
“But why? Please let me use the library, I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, you won’t even notice I’m here.” Yuri flicked a subtle glance around the dim corridors before speaking.  
“She’s always watching. My people don’t need any more trouble from outsiders.” A cloying panic started to rise in her throat as she saw what felt like her one last chance closing to her.  
“P-please,” she stammered, desperation casting a raw edge to her voice. “I have to help my friends. I’ve looked for answers everywhere else and this was my last hope. _Please_.” Yuri’s frown softened. He crossed his arms and screwed up his pretty face in seeming frustration. Finally he exhaled, hissing through closed teeth.  
“Alright. Alright, fine – you can use the library for the rest of the day. You better make the most of it though – if you make a habit of coming down here, _her_ people _will_ take notice.” Dread roiling her insides, she nodded furiously. He turned then to leave, but paused, glancing over his shoulder.  
“I’ll see you around, Bernadetta,” he said, before disappearing back into Abyss.

Eyes like saucers, Bernie stared after him.  
“How odd,” Linhardt murmured, breaking Bernie’s focus. “Did you know him before you came here? He seemed to recognise you.” She frowned, mystified.  
“No, I don’t… I don’t think so,” she replied. “… But he does look familiar somehow.” She puzzled over it a moment longer, before Linhardt broke the odd stillness with a yawn. The guard eyed them, still suspicious.  
“I could use a quick nap, but I suppose there is no time for that now.” Linhardt said sleepily. “Shall we then?” Bernie stood to attention, following after the sleepy scholar who had ambled off without her acknowledgement.  
“Oh! Yes, let’s go! You read, I’ll search – surely we’ll find something down here!”

“We’ve just _got to_ …” she murmured under her breath.

\-----

The sun hung low in the sky. Winter was creeping in. The days were getting shorter, and increasingly cold. Their nomadic existence was rough this time of year, although at least she spent the evenings with a thick winter coat. _Small mercies,_ thought Byleth, as she stared into the steadily flowing waters of the river. She’d had some mixed success fishing, but of the three caught, only one fish was a decent size. Still, it would keep them fed another day.

She set her fishing line aside and examined her reflection in the water. It had been a surprise at first, her dark locks shot through with silver overnight. Less surprising than her nightly transformation, but it had still taken some getting used to. Idly she threaded her fingers through her hair. Seteth had called it beautiful – and she supposed it was. Like starlight, he had said – back when they were still desperately clinging to hope for an answer. But the truth was that it was a symptom of the curse that affected them both. Byleth longed to see a different reflection.

Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes, listening to the gentle sounds of the river flowing. Seteth had flown off to look for better shelter as the clouds were rolling in – they’d been lucky thus far, but snow was assuredly on its way. She hoped he would not be overlong in returning. As she looked to the sky to track the sun’s progress, the stillness of the forest was disturbed – the rough scraping of metal against metal somewhere near by putting her instantly on edge. She looked to her sword lying on the bank behind her, then back to the rapidly retreating star that controlled her life, muttering a string of expletives under her breath her father might have been proud of.

Gritting her teeth, she kicked off her boots and quickly shed all of her clothing bar her underthings. It was paltry protection against the weather, but if she should transform at least she could wriggle free. Shivering intensely against the biting cold, Byleth grabbed her sword and made ready.

It was a perfect time for an ambush – if she didn’t feel so helpless, she would have almost been impressed. But she was tired and desperate and in no mood be trifled with. No one was going to take her without a fight.

\-----

Rhea smiled serenely as the lavender-haired youth strode into the audience chamber. He was a clever man, but wisely knew where his loyalties lay. After dipping into a sweeping bow, he looked up at her.

“You sent for me, Your Grace?” She nodded wordlessly and folded her hands before her.  
“Yes, thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. As well you may have observed, a new student joined the Officer’s Academy not three months past. It is my belief that she is currently attempting to aid fugitives who have committed crimes of heresy against the Church. While her efforts are largely harmless, she is being monitored closely.” She paused a moment and caught Yuri’s passive gaze.

“My Knights have informed me that she was recently seen entering the passageway that leads to Abyss.

Have you anything to report?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! :O
> 
> Flayn in this chapter: [(chuckles) I'm in danger](https://twitter.com/morganaliART/status/1351550453574561794?s=20)


	9. Backed into a Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is ambushed by mercenaries. Bernie and Linhardt scour the shadow library for clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence in this chapter. I haven't upped the rating as I don't think It's super graphic, but YMMV. Byleth's having a bad day all around.
> 
> It's midnight, I'm expecting to re-read this tomorrow and find a whole slew of errors, so apologies for that in advance. ^__^;;

_An ambush._ Byleth lowered herself into a defensive stance, her back to the river. Hemmed in as she was, they at least would not catch her from behind. The river behind her was wide, and where she had been positioned, the trees hung low over the banks. Two mercenaries emerged from their cover and converged on her. One armed with a club lunged at her, and she leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the downward arc of his cudgel. The other, a swordsman, tried to take advantage of the distraction to disarm her, but she managed to deflect the blow, causing the mercenary to stumble back. As the man with the cudgel drew back to swing at her once more, she crouched low before lunging forward, driving the pommel of her longsword into his gut. The man wheezed at the impact, and staggered, but refused to fall.

The club wielding man was solidly built and Byleth stumbled. She let her backward momentum carry her into another crouch, before springing back, throwing all of her weight behind a shoulder charge. Still recovering from her earlier blow, the large man lost his balance and landed on his ass. Behind her, the swordsman caught her by surprise with a blow to her kidneys. Lurching around to face him with a pained snarl, her sword met his with a clang that echoed throughout the hauntingly quiet forest.

A savage desperation overtook her as she pressed the attack, pushing the swordsman back as he frantically parried her blows. With a brutal hit, Byleth wrenched his wrist back, forcing him to drop the sword and cry out. Suddenly, she found herself on the ground – a third mercenary having tackled her from behind. Her own sword bounced out of her hands and clattered across the rocks that shored up the riverbank, before falling in. Disarmed, the three were on her in moments, struggling to restrain her.

“Boss, it’s getting real dark –“  
“Get the ropes, quick!”

The mercenaries shouted at each other but Byleth barely registered their voices as her blood drummed in her ears. An anguished whimper passed her lips, and she doubled over instinctively, the sun’s final light dipping below the horizon. Adrenalin still coursing through her veins clashed with the magic that crawled along her bones like electricity. Her insides felt as if they were on fire. Her limbs stretched and grew, bones popping and reforming – being broken and made anew.

_Goddess, why did it have to hurt so much?_ she thought miserably.

In an instant, she was the wolf again – the three mercenaries loosening their grip on her in surprise. Though weak from the transformation, she managed to shake the mercenaries off and leapt out of their grasp, a low and constant growl escaping her. Before they could react, she leapt back at the mercenaries, snapping and biting at the cudgel wielding man until she could get a grip on his throat.

He screamed. Byleth tasted blood on her lips and kept tearing, before pivoting on the other men, who were scrambling to their feet to rearm themselves. She snapped and snarled as they dodged around her in a panic. The swordsman hesitated for just a moment and she latched onto his leg, pulling him over – her sharp teeth rending flesh. The other man – the one who had tackled her to the ground – tried to beat her away with his friend’s club. She whined at the blow, and then pounced on him, knocking him to the ground. In seconds her teeth were around his throat – his blood hot on her tongue. The man’s face was white with terror.

With her assailants down, Byleth bolted. Adrenalin fading and still fatigued from her transformation, she could only hope the damage she had done was enough to keep them from following her deeper into the wood.

The snapping of steel and the crunch of bone brought Byleth’s flight to a swift end. She yelped despite herself, then whined as her initial shock dissipated and was replaced by crushing agony. They had caught her.

A plaintive howl echoed through the forest.

\-----

There were too many books and too little time. Hours. She had spent hours examining the titles of every single book and manuscript, unshelving anything that looked potentially useful. There was no clear system of categorisation, so Bernie had no choice but to work methodically, shelf by shelf, stack by stack, until she hopefully reached the end.

Meanwhile, Linhardt had taken over the singular desk space that occupied the library’s central platform. As she brought the books over, he would examine them and divided them into “interesting” and “worthless.” At regular intervals, Bernie would return the “worthless” books to the shelves.

What surprised her the most was that Linhardt was fully focused on his work. Every time she returned with more books, she expected him to be napping against the balcony railings – yet here he was, intently pouring over multiple tomes at the same time, and annotating her own notes with what very nearly looked like delight. The curse was a puzzle to solve, she realised – and Linhardt was a professional researcher at heart.

In the end it was Bernie who was nodding off. She had managed to search the stacks on the upper and lower levels of the library, but undoubtedly she missed something in her quest to look at everything. Now she sat on the floor across from Linhardt, still engrossed his studies, firing off questions at her as they came to him. She was so tired that words weren’t coming easily to her, but she mumbled out the information she could provide.

“Now I get why you’re always sleeping,” she said, a yawn drawing out her words. Looking for something to focus on, she gingerly grabbed a thin volume at the top of the current “worthless” pile, the colourful illuminations catching her eye. At face value, it seemed to be a book of fables – beautifully illustrated. She began to flick through carefully as the book seemed quite old, and realised it was a pictorial history of the four Saints. The illustrations captured her imagination with their bold colours and use of symbolism – there were some particularly striking depictions of the miracles they performed. Bernie chuckled softly.

“If only the Saints were still around…” she said, wistfully. “Cethleann was supposed to be a healer – I bet she could get rid of a curse.” For a moment, Linhardt paused – a thought occurring to him. Quickly he scribbled a note and closed the book he was perusing with a definitive snap.  
“I have some theories –“ he started, before the two noted the Abysskeeper glowering at them from the door. “– that perhaps are best discussed on our way out. Quickly, put these books away while I gather my notes.” Bernie frowned at being made to shelve the books herself but was too tired to complain.

“Sorry, thank you,” Bernie mumbled to the disgruntled guard as they shuffled back the way they came with their belongings. They trudged silently along the tunnels leading to the surface for some time, until Linhardt broke the silence.

“Do you suppose the dining hall is still open?”

\-----

She was delirious with pain. The night had fallen around her, though she could not tell if minutes or hours had passed since the trap had snapped around her leg – she had certainly passed out at some point. Gritting her teeth, she gingerly attempted to investigate the trap – but she could not move around much without jostling her caught leg and causing more pain to shoot along her limb. Collapsing again, she gave a little whine. As a human, she had seen these traps, knew how they worked. Logically she knew that somewhere there was a chain connecting the trap to the ground, and springs that held the jaws apart. She had more hope of gnawing her own leg off than springing the trap in this state, however.

At the edge of her hearing, she began to register the soft crunch of boots on the leaf litter, growing closer. The pace was erratic but was clearly heading in her direction. Through the pain a single thought occurred to her.

_This was all part of the plan._ Her thoughts felt sluggish as she turned over the realisation in her mind. _There’s probably traps all over this area – they never intended to catch me during the day._

The crunch of leaf litter was growing louder, no longer at the edge of hearing. She raised her head listlessly, completely at the mercy of whoever should come.

“There you are,” came a voice laced with pain and quiet anger. “I should kill you where you lay for what you did to my men, but I guess I wouldn’t get paid, would I?” The mercenary kicked the trap, jolting her leg, causing her to yelp in pain. “Serves you right, mutt. You could have come along quietly, but you had to kill my men. Look at you now.” He grunted as he kicked the trap again, and she whimpered frantically.

Brandishing his friend’s cudgel, he looked at her darkly. “I think I’d rather see you dead. You’re more trouble than your worth.” Byleth closed her eyes against the pain she felt as he raised the club to strike.

_Crack!_

Byleth jumped at the sound and yelped again as she moved her trapped leg – but no cudgel blow landed. Tentatively she opened her eyes – and watched in disbelief as the mercenary dropped to the forest floor – dead or unconscious, she could not tell.

_“Byleth!”_ came a harsh, desperate whisper. She whimpered weakly as she heard the sounds of scrabbling towards her, and she licked the hand that cupped her snout oh so gently.

“I’ve got you, love, you’ll be free in a moment.” She whimpered again in acknowledgement. “Be ready – I won’t be able to hold the trap open for long.” Byleth squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then lifted her head to look at her beautiful saviour – steeling herself for the pain to come. She caught his eye and yipped at him, and he nodded.  
“Ready? One, two, three!” he counted, then compressed the trap springs with all the inhuman strength he could muster. “Pull, Byleth, pull!” he ground out. With an agonised yelp, she wrenched her leg free, and the trap snapped back. Seteth fell backwards into the leaf litter. She collapsed, relief washing over her.

As delirium took her once more, she registered only the ripping of fabric, the binding of something rigid to her leg – the black of night, and a comforting voice.

_“I’ve got you, Byleth. Stay with me love, I’ve got you.”_

\-----

The Monastery grounds were silent when they emerged – only disrupted by the infrequent patrol of guards. If she had to guess, it was midnight or later. Linhardt raised his brows in surprise.

“Ah. No dining hall then.” Sleepily Bernie gestured towards the student sleeping quarters and started walking.  
“I keep snacks in my room,” she said. “Let’s eat and then you can tell me your theories.” Linhardt nodded appreciatively.  
“Yes. Snacks would be ideal.” He squinted a moment, then followed after her. “I should have snacks in _my_ room.” He murmured to himself, making a mental note for later.

As they drew closer to Bernie’s room, a small figure shot up in alarm.  
“Bernadetta, is that you?” came the quiet voice.  
“Flayn?? What are you doing out here so late at night?” Bernie rushed to her and then ushered her into her room, with Linhardt strolling in casually behind them.  
“I have been looking all over for you,” said Flayn, her hand clasping around Bernie’s own. “The letter I gave you, do you still have it?” Her gaze was so intense that Bernie was immediately uneasy.  
“I– I posted it with my own the day you gave it to me…” she said, her fear quickly building as the colour drained from Flayn’s face.  
“The Archbishop… she knows. Her people are watching you as closely as they are me.”  
“They’re watching me??” she squeaked. “Oh no. Oh no, what if – you don’t think…” Flayn sat heavily on Bernie’s bed and dropped her face into her hands.

“I believe… my brother and the Professor are in grave danger. I pray that is not the case.”

\-----

It had been an effort, getting her back to camp. Byleth in her human form had been a wee thing – a compact bundle of well-trained muscles and reflexes, but certainly no burden to carry. A full-grown wolf was a different matter entirely. Seteth’s muscles ached – strong as he was, his own desperation and terror carried him further than strength alone could have managed.

Byleth continued to slip in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Once back at camp, he had tended to her wounds properly. By some miracle, the bones in her leg did not appear to be broken, but the muscles and tendons had suffered some significant damage for being so thoroughly compressed. There had been some minor bleeding from the teeth of the trap that had torn open again once the leg had been freed – the flow had been stemmed for now, but infection was the greater threat. Cleaning her wounds to the best of his ability, he bound them with an unguent that would ease inflammation.

As the night wore on, his anxiety only increased. Dawn would arrive soon, and he would not be able to care for her. A snowstorm had been steadily heading in their direction over the last day or so, and Byleth would need shelter. There was a cave some ways south that he had spotted during his daily scouting – not ideal, but it would be better than nothing if he could get her there.

By the time he had packed up their few belongings, the sky was the muted grey of pre-dawn. Gingerly, he attempted to rouse the wolf from her fitful rest.  
“Byleth.” She whimpered softly. “Byleth, my love, the dawn approaches.” She did not move, but she opened her eyes a fraction. “Make a noise if you can understand me.” She closed her eyes again but made a soft _wuff_ noise. He scratched behind her ear affectionately.

“There’s a storm coming, love. I have found shelter, but I will need your help to get you there. I can carry you once we transform again, but you will need to be conscious.” He paused a moment, and she _wuffed_ – a small noise of acknowledgement. “I can’t have you falling off mid-flight,” he added with a forced chuckle.

“Come on then, love.” He said, just as the first rays of light began to make themselves known. “You can rest soon, I swear it...” 

\-----

She washed in and out of inky blackness – muted green light shone from above, but she could not focus. Before her was the rock throne – and someone sat there, though they were indistinct.  
_Sothis?_ Came the thought, unbidden – and the woman on the throne looked down at her. As their eyes met, she realised that she could see down from the throne – but that was not possible. Stumbling as though wading through a mire, she limped towards the chiselled seat.  
_Sothis, Sothis, please…_ she whispered intently, though the face of the woman shifted under her unfocused gaze like water.

Suddenly the woman spoke, and her words echoed through her own chest as if they were coming from her – the eerie echo of two voices blended into one causing a panic to rise in her throat.

_“Byleth... The star wanes. I grow weary…”_ she reached the stairs of the throne and tried to pull herself upward, but her limbs betrayed her, causing her to collapse at the woman’s feet.  
_What must I do?_ She whispered desperately.  
_“Pieces missing. Cracked heart. Fill the hole with splinters old or new.”_ The woman’s double voice lilted as if in a trance – the echoes of a dying spirit desperately trying to reach her.

_“The star wanes…”_


End file.
